


Like a Domino

by Madelasha



Series: Stiles' manly wiles [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oblivious Derek, POV Derek, sort of public sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madelasha/pseuds/Madelasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Stiles unknowingly gets Derek in trouble with his manly wilies and one time he still gets him in trouble but also gets him laid so it's fine.</p><p>I wrote this for a prompt in the teen wolf kink meme but can't remember where it is now (sorry?) but it was something like this:</p><p>Stiles keeps distracting Derek during important/inconvenient situations getting him to say/do stupid things and everyone noticing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Domino

**Author's Note:**

> Ok um, if anyone knows where the hell my prompt is please tell me so I can post a link or something? also, if there are any mistakes (though I checked like a million times) let me know so I can correct them.
> 
> Right! read and enjooooyyy!!

1

Movie nights

The pack calls them movie nights. Stiles calls them re-introducing Derek to pop culture nights. 

Personally, Derek likes to call them 'let's all torture Derek' nights. 

It's not that he doesn't enjoy spending time with the pack or doesn't like movies. It's just that, well, they usually get together at the Stilinski's and that means by the time they all get there Stiles is usually dressed in soft flannel pajama pants and a practically transparent white cotton shirt, looking all sleepy-relaxed and happy that everyone he cares for is safe and close to him. 

The scent that comes with that particular Stiles is one that Derek spends all the rest of the week trying to shake off, only for it to be friday again and he finds himself impregnated with it all over again.

It's torture.

It's not always movies though. Sometimes it's tv shows or videogames. Tonight is the latter.

Contrary to popular belief, Derek has not been living in a cave for the past years (Stiles argues the old house and abandoned rail depot might have been worse) and knows how to work a game controller perfectly fine. It's the stupid wand Bluetooth thing that's throwing him off. It's too easy and too difficult at the same time and by the time an hour has passed even Scott is doing better than him, never mind Stiles. Stiles, who is standing up and flailing around like the idiot he is while his shirt rides up and his pants slide down and, _god damnit, does he have freckles everywhere?_

It turns out, for all he brags about werewolf senses he can't seem to wave the damn thing the way he wants to. Especially if he's not even watching the screen.

It's a testament of how annoyed he is at the stupid game that he doesn't notice when Stiles drops his own Wii wand to come up behind the couch and rest his head on Derek's shoulder. He starts, but tries to keep on playing like nothing's wrong. Like he can't feel the moist breath on his neck and soft skin on his shoulder, or Stiles' rabbit-fast heartbeat all the way to his toes.

At one point though, it becomes impossible and he sighs like Stiles is the most annoying thing in the world (honestly, the only one who buys it by now is the teenager himself, if he hears the chuckles of his betas correctly) and turns his head around to face him, coming alarmingly close to Stiles' face.

"What" 

Stiles smiles like Derek is the most adorable thing ever and not a broody bitch and walks around the couch to plant himself firmly on his lap, taking hold of the controller with his hand still wrapped around it. 

"I'm going to teach you how to play," he says, with an infuriatingly attractive grin on his face "It's a disgrace that you can't play the Wii, it's like, the easiest console of all time dude, seriously". Then leans back on his chest and starts waving the wand around while Derek sits frozen, his eyes about two seconds away from popping out of his head.

Jesus, Stiles has no preservation instinct at all does he? Even through his layers he can tell that he's not wearing anything underneath the pants and the warmth of his skin seeps easily through them when Stiles wriggles around because 'it's part of the gaming experience dude, you have BE the character' 

Derek rolls his eyes, "I know how to play ok? I don't need you to teach me." 

Stiles snorts, " _Yeah_ , cause you were doing so well before I came over here." 

"I was doing fine." He was damnit, "Until you started-" looking so delectable it made me want to bend you over the couch and fuck you.

"What?" Stiles pauses the game and turns in the circle of his arms, "Until I started what, Derek? Oh my God, talking, it’s a thing people do, it's not that hard."

Oh, it's hard all right. So very, very hard. And Stiles is just, oblivious as ever, face open and expectant, like Derek's impressive dick is not trying to poke a hole through his pants. 

Fuck ok, control yourself Derek. "Until you started imitating an octopus and flailing all over the place, distracting everyone."

Right, that was an acceptable explanation.

Stiles raises his eyebrows with a smirk but says nothing else, turning back to face the screen with renewed vigor, making Derek's dick twitch helplessly, and the rest of the pack snickers because they are the worst pack ever and he seriously needs to consider moving to Alaska to find another pack. Preferably one made entirely of wolves.

Assholes.

2

Training

Derek loves training. He loves relying on his supernatural senses and letting everything else go. He especially loves feeling superior to his betas and kicking everyone's butts to next week whenever they've done something annoying that week (which is every week to be honest) and takes deep satisfaction in knowing that they just have to accept the status quo and realize they cannot defeat him.

That is, until Stiles starts showing up at the Hale house during training.

Like he doesn't interfere in every other aspect of his life already.

At the moment, they're trying to improve the werewolves' sense of smell, and Derek, being the alpha (also known as the smugest bastard to ever smug) is wearing a blindfold, to demonstrate how completely incompetent his betas are if he doesn't even need to see them to take them down. 

Scott, being the first one to be turned, is actually giving Derek a run for his money, and has managed to evade being hit by him by mere milliseconds each time. They are starting to go deeper into the woods when it hits him.

Usually people's scent comes from a mix of different things that are constant in their lives. Scott smells mostly of cherry blossom perfume, freshly cut grass, and pet store; Isaac smells of mold, leather and ink; but Stiles, oh, Derek can't even begin to describe what Stiles smells like. From things so mundane like curly fries and rusty metal from his jeep to incongruous things like the oatmeal cookies his mother used to bake on his birthday and Laura's shampoo, and some others his brain is just unable to process just yet. Sex, happiness, _home_. The scent is so distinctly Stiles that it throws Derek for a second.

And his wolf, well, it goes batshit crazy trying to chase it. He knew the blindfold was a bad idea. _Mine_ , it says. NOW, it says. And Derek just, forgets about Scott, follows his nose to the citrus-summer smell of Stiles munching on a ripe orange, and follows the drop of juice running down the side of his neck. God, he's almost there, the trees are behind him and the earth beneath his feet is rougher with every step.

This is it; he's close enough to pounce now. He braces himself for the jump when he's knocked from behind and falls face first to the floor, groaning.

Oh, right. Scott.

"Holy God, Derek are you ok?" Stiles' face swims into view above him. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

He throws the blindfold away viciously when he hears Scott fist pumping a few feet away and everyone else snorting with laughter. "Just my ego." 

Stiles' mouth twitches like he wants to laugh but keeps it in check. "You can't win them all, sourwolf," he says "Don't worry, you're still the biggest baddest alpha of them all." 

"Orange?" he asks, waving the fruit in front of his face.

And that drop of juice is still there; as if it couldn't think of another place it'd rather be than Stiles' throat. Not that he can blame it. 

Derek wants to lick it.

"Fuck." he says out loud, and throws an arm over his eyes.

"I'll take that as a no, then?"

3

Derek is freezing his ass off on the bleachers.

The bleachers he's sitting on because the pack begged for him to come to the first lacrosse game of the season to watch them.

Because that is definitely who he is watching. All of them, the pack. Not just Stiles. Nope. 

He's sitting between Allison, Lydia and Erica, and briefly wonders what it looks like to other people, to be sitting with three teenage girls, holding a sign that says GO STILES.

The sign has glitter on it and everything. Lydia made them. Each girl is holding one and he ended up with Stiles' because the entire pack act as if he and Stiles are dating. Which they are not. 

The only reason he missed Isaac's first goal is obviously because he was looking at the scoreboard, not because Stiles decided it was a fantastic idea to bend over to re-tie his sneakers directly in Derek's line of vision. 

Everyone in the stands gets up at the same time, the three girls cheering in unison, signs in the air while Derek sits there with a deer-in-headlights look on his face until Stiles turns to look at him, eyebrows raised and Lydia pulls him up by his elbow.

Stiles glances at each of the signs and pouts when he doesn't see one for him, looking down at his shoes.

Derek sighs and reluctantly holds up the cardboard blue GO STILES high in the air and when the boy looks up from his eyelashes and spots it his face just, lights up like a christmas tree. 

The next two goals are scored by Stiles and the sign stays up for the rest of the game.

Derek tells the girls it's because he's being supportive of his pack.

They all know it's because he's using it to hide his adoring smile. 

4

There is a troll in Beacon Hills.

That's it. There's no punch line. There is an actual eleven foot troll in middle of nowhere California and the only ones even remotely prepared to deal with it is them. Surprise, surprise. It's not like Derek wanted to enjoy his summer or anything.

The thing is, they don't even know what they're doing. The only research they have come from shady Wikipedia pages and several science fiction books that have proven to be less than reliable. 

Even Chris Argent is out of his element. So much for that bestiary now. For all the information it has on how to kill and torture werewolves in the most slow, painful ways imaginable it doesn't say much about trolls.

Anyway, the point is: there is a fucking troll in Beacon Hills and the pack has come to a sort of understanding with the Argents for the time being (which is actually just Chris agreeing to not shoot any of them with wolfsbane bullets as long as Derek agrees to play nice and not turn any more teenagers into wolves while they work together) and Stiles and Lydia are...somewhere in the middle. Not seen as pack by the argents in the technical sense of the word but definitely not hunters. A bit like what Deaton is doing for them actually. Which is being one hundred percent unhelpful and cryptic all the fucking time.

So, there is a meeting. At the Argents house because Stiles insisted that they meet somewhere with indoor plumbing and lighting other than the moonlight so he can see his sourface better. 

Brat.

Derek huffed and puffed but in the end wound up caving (and made a mental note to start looking for a place closer to town. Not for Stiles' benefit though, absolutely not. Nope)

Chris comes forward then, gigantic gun strapped to his belt (like that's going to intimidate Derek anymore. It does intimidate the other wolves though, so he makes a point to roll his eyes at him and the older man sets it down on the table with a sigh, as if Derek is out to ruin his fun) and starts explaining the beginning of the plan they came up with the week before.

Derek zones him out, taking turns in seeing how his pack is reacting to Chris taking charge of the meeting. Most of them look slightly uncomfortable, which is mostly a good thing. Inevitably, his gaze shifts to Stiles, who is compulsively biting his lower lip. Fucking indecent, this kid. Look at that lip, the upper one now, so upturned and full and nghhh

"-rek?"

"eh?" He manages, snapping his head in the direction of Chris's voice. The flush is rapidly climbing up his cheeks and telepathically curses Stiles for being so distracting. 

"I was just telling your -pack-" honestly, his daughter is banging one of them on a regular basis and he still says it like it's a dirty word, "that after we lured the beast in and secured the perimeter with the help of Dr. Deaton, my people would keep watch from the trees while Lydia and Stiles lock you with it within a circle of ash to take it down. We will of course assist you if needed."

There is silence for a couple of seconds until Derek realizes everyone is looking at him, probably looking for confirmation from his alpha, damn it ok.

"Right. He is, right, that is, um" The hunters over at the corner of the room are looking at him like he's lost his mind. He probably has. "We will suck - SUMMON - we will summon the troll from his hiding place" 

Fuck. Chris's eyebrows are practically climbing up to his hairline and there is a snort of suppressed laughter somewhere in the room but Derek cannot tell who it's coming from because Stiles is now licking his lips, right where they're pink and a little bruised and Derek can't stop talking.

"Obviously we are counting on all of you to make this work-"

God, now his lips are pink, bruised _and_ shiny with spit. Mmm, what he wouldn't do to those lips is Stiles let him.

"We have to lick-"

"Oh my God" whispers Erika from somewhere in the room.

Scott snorts into the fist he has shoved in his mouth.

" _Stick_ to the plan. We must. Yeah." 

He must be sick. A strange werewolf disease that makes you stare at lanky teenagers and blurt out words like lick and suck in the middle of a VERY. IMPORTANT. MEETING.

"Right." says Argent, his face a mask of shock it would be funny if Derek weren’t drowning in his own humiliation. "Ok then, if that's all you can go home. Most of you have school tomorrow."

He throws Derek a look that clearly says 'yeah buddy, your whole pack of underage wolves has a curfew, what does that say about your life choices?' 

Derek purses his lips but yeah, that's pretty much accurate so he lets it go.

As they're all walking to the cars, discussing the odds of their plan actually working for a chance Stiles yells "Hey, a dollar!" and bends over to pick...up, are those new jeans? Certainly Stiles doesn't wear jeans this tight on a regular basis, right?

"What do you think Derek?" asks Isaac, shooting him and infuriating smirk.

"It's a great ass."

The whole pack minus Stiles bursts out laughing.

" _Plan_. I said plan."

"Well I'm off then" Says Boyd, dragging a laughing Erika with him.

Stiles flails himself into a standing position and looks wildly around him "What? You guys, what's so funny?"

Derek gives everyone the death glare and they mostly stop laughing.

"Come on! Are we making fun of Derek? What happened?" Stiles is whining by now "I want in on the joke too, oh my God you all suck."

"Stiles?" That's it Derek, glare at him so that he won't suspect you've been staring at him for the past two hours. Grrr.

"Shut up?" asks Stiles sheepishly.

Derek's glare turns into a creepy ass smirk.

"Yes. And go home. All of you." 

He gets into his camaro and drives away into the night like the badass motherfucker he is.

There.

Balance restored.

5

So the plan doesn't work. Big surprise.

Five minutes in, the fight is a bloody, awful mess and Derek honestly cannot think of a way this could possibly end well for any of them. 

He's already calling a retreat, frantically looking around for Stiles to ask him to break the circle of ash, when he sees him. Running madly towards the back of the troll, holding what appears to be an...arrow? Yes, definitely an arrow.

Derek's chest tightens in panic but by the time he can move again Stiles is already jumping onto the troll's back, climbing up with a speed he's never seen from him before. 

The troll barely even registers him, too busy fighting off three werewolves, until Stiles, crazy wonderful stiles, shoves the thing up it's nose, burying more than half the arrow inside.

"Oh my God, I totally just pulled a Harry Potter,” wheezes Stiles, still hanging onto the creature's neck.

The troll starts making these awful, guttural noises, trying simultaneously to shake Stiles off and get the arrow out of its nose. It's the perfect distraction.

Derek just like, stares like a moron because he can't believe it worked, this fucking kid, who made him watch all eight harry potter movies in one day and probably kept every single bit of information on every single supernatural creature in it just in case it worked like this time and Derek is just. Standing. There. Like a freaking idiot while the rest of his pack takes the troll down easily because the thing can't stop sneezing and clubbing itself in the face. It's certainly not the brightest crayon in the supernatural box.

And suddenly Lydia is also there, throwing a vicious looking concoction at the troll that bursts into a purple explosion the second it comes in contact with it.

Great. Now he has green goo all over his expensive jacket. Just the cherry on top of his so far summer of fail. 

Fortunately, it's just his jacket. After all he was standing far enough that his pants are pretty much intact and his shirt is completely clean. 

Stiles on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. He looks like those celebrities that get slimed at those awards, whatever they're called. Derek stifles a snort at the sight of him trying to wipe it out of his eyes.

"Oh my God, they forgot to show the part where the trio gets showered in troll bits" says Stiles, spitting green slime on the grass; "I am seriously re-evaluating all my life choices right now."

Scott it the first one who does it. Just, takes off his shirt and pants and dives into the lake. There is about half a second when everyone is still before all hell breaks loose. Shirts, pants, and leather jackets are discarded immediately and the hunting suddenly became a lake party. 

Honestly, teenagers.

Derek is about to tell everyone to just get the hell out of here so the clean up can start up when he sees Stiles out of the corner of his eye. He's down to this obscenely tight pair of black boxer-briefs and is looking down at his (now useless) Stud muffin shirt with defeat. 

"I just want you to know that _I hate you all_ ," he yells in the direction of the lake, then turns towards Derek, who is staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at him. "And you owe me a new shirt dude."

Derek nods, because honestly, Stiles could ask him to hand his camaro over right now and he'd say yes.

With a satisfied nod, Stiles jumps into the water and Derek is just casually popping a boner next to a dead troll, no big deal.

+1

Sheriff Stilinski is legitimately the most terrifying human being Derek has ever met. 

He's sitting across from him and doing this thing with his eyebrows looking at him with narrowed eyes like he knows he's a criminal just doesn't know why yet, but he plans to find out.

The fact that Derek has seen the back of his police car does not help things at all. 

Neither does Stiles' hand under the table fondling his half-hard dick.

"Derek."

His fork drops from his hand and makes a ridiculous amount of noise clattering down on his plate.

"Yes, sheriff," God, that was squeaky. What is wrong with him? He is a werewolf for fuck's sake. 

The sheriff's mouth lifts up into a familiar smug smile, and Derek knows he's pleased of how afraid he seems to be of him. 

"Stiles tells me you got an apartment closer to town."

"Isaac needs a stable place to live, after what happened with his father," replies Derek, and after a beat of silence "And so do I."

Mr. Stilinski's smile softens and he nods approvingly, and just like that, the tension in the room is gone and the dinner is actually pleasant.

A bit too pleasant for him, what with Stiles’ hand rhythmically squeezing his dick while cheerfully telling his dad all about Derek's loft and how the whole pack helped with the remodeling, his face giving away nothing.

He's not twitching or rambling (well, not more than usual). His poker face is, to be honest, quite impressive. 

"It has this awesome spiral staircase, which, I had no idea he even knew how to use what with his fondness for jumping and climbing on things."

Derek should be offended but his zipper is being pulled down and now Stiles’ hand is cupping his balls, warm and big and God, Derek's going to come in front of his boyfriend's dad. The hand scratches the soft hairs at the base of his dick, pulling a little on them. Fuck.

"A _hole_ in the wall dad, I'm not even kidding, an actual _hole_ "

And yes, that would be what Stiles is touching right now. A sneaky finger squeezed between his ass cheeks, drawing slow circles around the ring as his palm presses down on his balls.

How did his hand even get there? It feels so good though, the unrelenting pressure. Up, down, circle, scratch. He's so close, and he's not even sure what his face looks like right now but the sheriff's attention is entirely focused on his son, which was probably the purpose of Stile's monologue.

"We got a discount from Lydia's aunt, this awesome lady who owns a hardwood store and we just went fucking nuts buying crap that we didn't even knew what was for."

Derek is sure his heave breathing and heartbeat can be heard from space now that Stiles is really picking up his pace. His middle finger stops circling and actually breaches his hole, dry and rough and a little sweaty and just like that Derek is _gone._

He doubles over and slams his fist down the table, coming for what feels like ages, Stiles’ hand squeezing his balls through his orgasm and he looses his grasp on reality for a few seconds.

"-rek dude are you ok?" 

Stiles is petting his hair and looking concerned, his other hand now innocently grasping his fork like that's where it's been all along. Bastard.

"Fine, I'm," he swallows heavily. "I'm fine. I think that last slice of pizza might have been too much."

The sheriff's eyebrows come down from where they were trying to climb into his hair and grimaces in sympathy. "You can lie down on the couch if you want, son. I'm going to take the night shift but feel free to crash here."

With that, he gets up from the table and heads upstairs.

Derek drags a shaking hand underneath the table only to find his jeans buttoned and zipped.

"When?-"

And Stiles bursts out laughing like a lunatic as Derek attempts to glare at him while still coming down from his orgasm.

"Oh come on dude, don't give me that sour face, it was the perfect opportunity, and it's not like it's the first time either." 

What?

"What"

Stiles gapes. " _You know,_ " he says, doing this arm spastic thing "before we got together?"

At Derek's blank face, he releases an exasperated sigh. "Y'know, at the argents house?"

Derek blinks.

"The lacrosse game?"

Derek's eyes widen. "You were doing it on purpose"

And Stiles is off laughing again.

"You thought that was _unintentional_? One only has to bend over to tie one's shoelaces so many times during a freaking lacrosse game, Derek come on, and unlike a creepy werewolf some of us are familiar with the concept of personal space and sitting on your lap during game night was definitely not respecting it." He's looking at Derek like he's dim. Derek agrees.

"The troll?" he asks, "With the tiny boxers and the lake?"

Stiles snorts. "That, was accidental, but duly noted, I am _so_ buying more of those."

The sheriff comes down the stairs, promptly interrupting the growl trying to escape Derek's throat, freshly showered and dressed for work, waves them away and goes out the door.

And as soon as he hears the car turning the corner Derek carries Stiles upstairs like the caveman he is and proceeds to ravish the fuck out of him. Several times in a row. In several different positions. 

Yeah, Derek's boyfriend is awesome.

**Author's Note:**

> Ta-Daaa!
> 
> Also ok, I'm writing a sequel/prequel about how they actually get together so I guess this is a series now? fml
> 
> My tumblr is colfer-o-brien in case any of you wanna stop by and say hi (I have to warn you though, I post about the same amount of Glee and Teen wolf?) And by glee I mean Chris colfer and Kurt. I'd like to have some more teen wolf blogs to follow though (and friends? :( I am a sad lonely cookie in this fandom) so please stop by and leave me a message telling me what you mainly post about and I'll check your blog out and follow if we have stuff in common :)


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